A Little Bit of Good Magic
by Scioneeris
Summary: AU. Few canon elements. Abused!Harry transports himself to the Malfoy Manor and is found by Lord and Lady Malfoy and promptly adopted by their Veela son as Draco's soulmate and somehow Snape is roped into being the adoptive father? Contains Slash. Features SeverusNarcissaLucius Triad and DracoHarry.
1. Wishes and Good Magic

**A/N: I've had an itch to try my hand at a Severitus and a Draco!Veela Drarry for a bit, so this fic is going to be a mix of both. I have no specific idea where it's going, so it might end up as quite an interesting tale by the time I'm through. I am quite a fan of Lucius and Snape, so be warned. :P Please read the warnings below and if it's not your cup of tea, then hope over to my profile and find something else to read. ^_^**

**Summary: AU. Few canon elements, if at all. An abused Harry transports himself to the Malfoy Manor during summertime and is found by Lord and Lady Malfoy and promptly adopted by their Veela son, Draco, who is inexplicably drawn towards the quiet, shy boy, with strong 'good' magic. Severus Snape is roped into the role of a father when the Malfoys aren't quite sure how to raise a missing Harry Potter without raising a ruckus. Chaos. Fluff. Drama and Family Bonding occur through this ridiculously off-kilter fic. **

**WARNINGS: This fic contains SLASH(meaning m/m) and multiple pairings as well as some mentions of child abuse. If you disagree with any of this, please find something else to read. Current Pairings include : ( and DracoxHarry)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, Harry Potter and his world belongs to J.K. Rowling, I just like playing with her characters.**

* * *

><p>"Severus?" Lucius stuck his head around the doorway of the potions laboratory. It didn't take his silver eyes long to settle on the tall, composed figure hovering over no less than five simmering cauldrons bearing potions in various stages of completion.<p>

There was an answering grunt from his favorite Slytherin Severus Snape, Potions Master, as the man barely moved from his favorite place—directly at the center before a table bearing enough cauldrons filled with decidedly complicated potions to keep his hands humming and busy as well as his mind.

"Were you going to stop by this weekend, after this batch finishes, of course?"

There was another grunt.

"Draco's home from the Zabini's. He'll ask for you."

"He usually does." Severus acknowledged, stirring one pale colored potion a half-dozen turns clockwise.

A comfortable silence settled over the room.

Severus worked with a graceful, quiet efficiency that the blond man could appreciate. Lucius lounged comfortably in the doorway, making no move to enter his mate's domain. He'd learned—quickly—just what buttons to push and which ones were absolutely forbidden. He could step down onto the first step and no further into his beloved's domain.

When he grew tired of balancing in the doorway, he stepped into the laboratory and braced against the doorjamb, his feet planted firmly on the first step.

Several long moments later, the Potions Master ladled the finished potions into vials, corking and waxing them appropriately. His distinctive spidery scrawl appeared on the blank labels with a careless wave of one hand. There was no need to use his wand for something that was so second nature.

A pale blond eyebrow arched neatly in a wordless acknowledgement of the silence between them and the finality of the evening as Severus finally wound his way from around the potions tables and started towards the doorway.

The visible shiver from the younger wizard caused the faintest twitch of the Potion Master's lips as he approached, dark eyes raking over the formerly relaxed figure. "Lucius." He greeted, backing the man up the first step and into the hallway as he mentally ordered the lab to close and ward itself.

A faint whine left the blond's lips as Severus leaned closer, but not close enough.

"Severus."

"Yes, Lucius?"

The delightedly dark tone in the older wizard's voice sent another wave of enjoyable shivers down the younger man's body.

"Will…you…come?" He managed to gasp out as those lovely pale fingers slid beneath his robes and began to toy with the body beneath. "Cissy will be glad to see—no!" The whimpered protest came as the hands stilled at the mention of Lady Malfoy. "Severus."

A powerful wave of gentle calm washed over the blond and a the hint of fire slowly tapered off as the dark-haired Veela drew his mate close. "And did Draco want to see me or…Narcissa?"

"She loves you too." Lucius pouted—the expression adorable—his own Veela nature slowly coming into play. "She let me have you."

Severus gave a rather undignified snort. "She doesn't _let_ you do anything." He said, briskly, disentangling himself from the initiated contact. "I haven't the time to spare this weekend. Things have come up."

"Things always come up." The whine was shifting more to a hurt tone. "You hardly come home, Severus. You spend every minute—almost—here at Hogwarts. We miss you." He swallowed. "I miss you."

The darkened figure straightened, imperceptibly and turned on his heel, heading down the hallway from the basement lab towards the upper dungeons and his private quarters. "I cannot spare the time now." He said, stiffly.

"But-!"

A backlash of raw anger crackled through the bond between the mated paired and Lucius shrank back against his own will. Rarely did Severus ever draw on his dominant status, but when he did—inadvertently or not—the younger wizard knew to obey the very reasons ingrained in his being.

There was an abrupt sigh from the end of the hallway and Severus turned, rubbing his head with one hand and then pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. He took in the injured expression on Lucius's expressive face and then the dejected, defensive slump of his mate's posture. He had been the one to cause that.

His Veela instincts had already begun to pester him to right things through some overly sappy way of public affection in a rather physical way. Severus merely ground his teeth tighter together, until he could mentally snap up the reins of his rampant Veela genes and barely existent emotions.

He could not afford to take time off from the Potion Brewing regimen—not when it had been ordered by Albus Dumbledore on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix—and not when there had been such recent rumors of the Dark Lord surfacing.

Already, the few scant years of almost-contentment he'd had now seemed scarcely enough to carry him through the rest of his life, if the nightmare he lived as a spy of Light were to suddenly become an open an available position.

Of all the things in his life that bore worthwhile regret, this was one of the few that Severus Snape accepted and acknowledged.

He'd never have taken the Dark Mark if he knew.

Never.

A sniffle at the end of the corridor had him whirling in a spectacular swirl of his teaching robes and he barely managed to temper the glare he nearly fixed on his sniffling mate.

"Lucius?" He forced his voice to be softer than the lovely silken drawl that it usually was.

There was no answer.

"Lucius." He tried again. "I didn't…" He hesitated. No, Severus Snape was not a man who apologized and therefore, saw no real reason to begin now than he ever had in the past. Even when his suppressed instincts were all but screaming bloody murder in the back of his mind. "Luce?" He tried, this time, even lower and softer.

The bowed head of blond slowly lifted, shimmering silver eyes meeting dark, onyx orbs. With rather dramatic ceremony, the younger wizard stalked forward and flung his arms around the taller man, hugging him fiercely.

That, the blond thought smugly, he knew he could get away with.

He was right, of course.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened while Severus Snape, brilliant potions master, a master of mind arts and bonded Veela allowed himself the common compulsion of thinking on the level of ordinary wizards.

Nothing made sense.

While nothing made sense, Lucius continued to hug him and pretend cry into those lovely, soft robes and Severus found himself tracing abstract shapes on the man's shoulders and back in some befuddled attempt to calm him.

Severus did realize—belatedly—when he stared down into shimmering silver orbs that his mischievous mate hadn't really been crying after all. (To his knowledge, the silver-eyed beauty had only cried three times in their years together and every single occasion had been for sheer relief or joy.) The eyes sparkled merrily up at him and the strong arms locked around his waist tightened even further.

"Come home to Malfoy Manor, Sev." The blond Veela literally purred, nuzzling his face against the soft, black robes. "Stay the weekend." He began to return the favor of tracing figures up and down the Potion Master's back. "You know you miss me." He whispered. "You know you want me…"

Severus swallowed hard.

"You've been ignoring me." Delectable pink lips curled into a half-pout. "There'd better not be anyone else—mmph!"

The accusation was interrupted to the best of Severus's expert ability. He rectified the situation in short order, by capturing the head and shoulders of said mate and drawing him close enough to kiss the man senseless.

Happiness flowed freely through the bond in the next few minutes that followed as Severus gave and took freely from what was his.

Lucius quite happily returned the favor.

When Severus did pull away—albeit reluctantly (and somewhat breathlessly, if one must be accurate)—with only slight difficulty he managed to sooth his distressed mate with promises to come 'soon' and reassurances that there was absolutely no cause for jealousy. The only other thing occupying his current expanse of nearly unlimited free time (Hogwarts was out of session after all) were his precious potions and that idiotic Headmaster.

"So you'll come?" Lucius prompted, again. He almost hadn't come—after all, two could play at this game—but he knew Severus and the older man would most likely turn grey before he ever admitted anything about the true depth of their bond and what prolonged absences could do during such strange times. He'd been so restless around Malfoy Manor that his darling wife had kicked him out with a sweet smile and direct orders to go and find Severus.

The lovely lady hadn't said what to do after he found said Potions Master, so Lucius had gladly improvised when his Veela instincts began to surge to the forefront. He really had been away from Severus for too long and it showed in rather embarrassingly obvious ways. He hadn't found himself this—ruffled—in quite some time.

One half of him was rather pleased that in spite of his outward protestations, Severus hadn't made any real moves to push him away, instead, the dark-haired man had merely seemed to relax even further into the 'forced embrace' and when the snogging had started, well, Lucius wasn't about to protest.

He did try—when Severus reluctantly pulled away—but the blond could see the lingering traces of regret in his mate's eyes and knew that whatever reasons the older wizard held close, they were important enough for him to respect them—so he did.

Of course, he had made sure to prompt his forgetful and sometimes annoyingly unflappable wizard to promise to come and meet them soon, being sure to remind him that his beloved godson would be present.

Severus had shooed him off with muttered grumbles of hexes and curses that would never, ever, of course, be cast, but were simply said for the normality of it all. Lucius had all but floated out of the dungeons and to outside the Hogwarts wards where he could apparate properly to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

><p>In the disturbingly cheerful house on Number 4 Privet Drive, one scrawny little boy hunched, sobbing silently into his skinny arms in the darkened corner of the cupboard under the stairs. A trickle of dried blood had dribbled down one corner of his face and his head throbbed something awful as the poor thing attempted to expel the sorrow of his young body in the only way a human could—tears and raw anguish.<p>

The heart-breaking sight was more so for the sole fact that nary a sound even existed in that dark domain of a cupboard. The injured boy bawled quite openly and dejectedly, a final attempt to ease the burden on his young shoulders, but no one had even noticed.

No one had heard.

No one had come.

No one would come.

It had been many years after all—at least, very many, to the little boy beneath the stairs in the cupboard.

No one had ever come before, so this time, would be no different than the others.

He would simply be destined to life his imperfect life at the hands of the cruel relatives that saw nothing wrong with treating him like the freak they claimed he was.

The cries subsided after a while—much sooner than one would think—and then the dark-haired, green-eyed boy began to coax his weary mind to wander with the only pastime he had—his imagination. He bid himself to dream of things he could never have—would never have, after all, freaks like him didn't deserve such privileges—and he was certainly a prime specimen of a freak.

But in his child's mind, that wonderful imagination was like magic—good magic—especially since Uncle Vernon all but when to pieces when the word was mentioned, so it was probably because of bad magic, because good magic ought to be good and therefore not hurt anyone or cause any trouble and to do good things.

Good things like rescuing children and giving them a second chance—even if they were horrible freaks who didn't deserve a second chance or food or clothes or toys or anything, really. In the mind of this tattered Harry James Potter, good magic was good. It simply was.

And even good magic would help a freak, if that freak tried their very best to be good, wouldn't it?

The more he thought of it, the more his imagination liked it and so little Harry let himself dream. He dreamed of where he could live in a house so big, that he'd never have time to explore every single room. He'd have someone to play with—maybe, if they were nice, but then again, with good magic, he would only meet good people, yes? With his good friends, they could explore the house and they could have fun together. They would eat good food and wear nice clothes without stains, holes or tears in them. They would be able to smile without mean people thinking they were causing mischief by allowing the tiniest of smiles to show through.

And perhaps…perhaps, Harry thought, he might have a Mummy and a Daddy, just like his precious cousin Duddikins did. Harry wrinkled his nose for a moment, the good imaginations coming to a temporary pause as he thought about that and then shook his head.

He wanted a real Mummy and Daddy, not like how his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were always fawning and crooning over Dudley. Harry suppressed a shudder. No, he just wanted a Mummy that would hold him if he fell down and scraped his knee—to kiss away the horrible ache in his head that was really starting to hurt—and to fix him snacks and give him stickers for doing his homework, if he ever had homework to do besides chores.

Harry hiccupped softly, the imagination playing out so beautifully in his mind that he yearned with every little fiber of his being to leap right into such a precious reality. If only…! The thought lingered and teased and taunted him in his poor, throbbing head.

If only he could have someone to love him. Someone that would love him forever, that would care—really care—and would never let anyone hurt him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, his head really did hurt far worse now that it had before.

He chewed one dry cracked lip, before realizing that action brought more pain than good and then worry began to crowd the good imaginations away. Harry sucked in a soft gasp of air. No! He didn't want the good imaginings to go away, he wanted them to stay, to stay here with him!

But the elusive picture of the enticing home wrought with 'good magic' was now beginning to fade quite nicely into the dulls of his mind as Harry felt a peculiar stab of pain in his head and his chest at precisely the same moment.

A squeak of pain escaped.

The little boy gritted his teeth together, repeating the mantra over and over in his head, the special words that usually made everything seem not quite so bad.

_It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse. _He chanted over and over in his head_. It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be—oh, OW! That did hurt!_

The throbbing eased somewhat, when Harry stubbornly set his face in a scowl and tried desperately to bring the happy mental images back to him. The fight began to exhaust his already overstressed body and he sagged, limply, into the awkward corner of his cupboard bedroom.

The pain in his chest grew worse, until he began to cry again, great shuddering sobs that made his nose stuffy, his head hurt all over again and just well—everything hurt after that and when the good magic images began to fade, Harry desperately clung to them.

_If only, if only!_ He thought, frantically.

_I wish. _He sobbed_. I wish I lived with them! _

And then, there was a soft, quiet pop and the miserable little lad in the cupboard beneath the stairs, disappeared without a trace.

Quietness continued in the rest of the house of Number 4 Privet Drive and none of the other occupants knew a thing. They never even suspected that such a thing could be possible, after all, only freaks could do such things, right?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah, things will get better for Harry soon. I hope this is off to a good start. I just needed to get this plot bunny out of my head so I can focus on the mountain of homework before me...argh...Review if you like and let me know what you think! ^_^**


	2. If I Come To You

**A/N: I normally never update this fast, LOL. But it just so happens to be the weekend I just so happen to have been working on this fic, rather than my other ones, so here we go. Chapter two and it's a tad long, but I want to get some of the odd family dynamics in and settled before I introduce Harry to the mess. I think he'll be just fine with them. ^_^ Special thanks to my wonderful reviewers and thank you as well to those of you who added this little fic to your alerts and favorites. I hope you enjoy chapter two. Keep an eye on the page breaks to know the changes in time. **

**See chapter one for disclaimers and warnings. I own nothing, save for my own plot bunny.**

**WARNING: This fic contains multiple pairings and slash, including Severus x Lucius x Narcissa.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Ten-year-old Draco Malfoy tossed and turned in his bed for the twelfth night that month. The sheets tangled awkwardly around him as the panicked body writhed in the grasp of whatever horrible nightmares could not be brought to reality.<p>

A whimper escaped and a soft light in the room flickered to life.

Narcissa Malfoy tiptoed in the room, her wand at the ready as she carefully checked the room and then the distressed child on the bed. Her mother's heart clenched painfully at the sight of her baby boy's distress and her fae nature demanded that she do something to ease his discomfort. She moved forward, whispering charms to straighten the sheets and wipe the sweat from the pale skin.

"Draco?" She murmured, easing herself to sit on one side of the bed. It bothered her, sometimes, when at times like this, the house was virtually empty and she didn't know what else to do. Her secret healer knowledge, courtesy of the fae, only gave her so much of an edge, it was one thing to read about veela children in books and another to deal with one in real life.

This was yet another one of those puzzling stages where she knew so very little.

Merlin knew Veelas were far too protective and possessive to ever allow much to be written of them anyway. She'd always done her fair share of mothering and left the lot of unusual things to Lucius to deal with. Though, presently, he wouldn't return any time soon—considering that she'd thrown him out with very direct orders to search out his Veela mate before daring to return—and now, she faced once more with the mysteries of a Veela child.

The boy did not wake, though he did calm and still when she rested a cool cloth on his forehead and stroked his cheek with one trembling finger.

She really did not like these night terrors. Draco was old enough for them to disappear—if they were the usual kind, but for the past month, he'd been acting rather strange. He'd complain of a pain in his chest every so often and soon had stopped playing altogether, often sitting in front of a window and staring out into the landscape until his eyes glazed over with a haze she couldn't explain.

Lucius had checked him and pronounced the boy to be fine—having decided that perhaps he was bored and ordering her to see about sending him to spend time with friends. The last family to host her little lad had been the Zabini's and when they'd returned him, Mrs. Zabini had stayed a moment to speak to her. She'd claimed the boy was moody, unresponsive and prone to wild bursts of temper. She'd then tempered her words at the look of disbelief on Lady Malfoy's face and suggested that perhaps the boy was homesick.

Narcissa had weakly agreed and then sent the lad to his room for lack of anything else to do. With Lucius and Severus both unreachable, there wasn't really much she could do and Draco wasn't in the mood to mind her.

She wasn't in the mood to make him.

The blonde lady had quite nearly regretted her hasty actions, now as she hovered anxiously over the sleeping body and felt her stomach twisting and clenching, her mothering instincts amplified by the traces of fae running through her. She was missing something here—and for the life of her—the brilliant witch didn't have a clue what it was. However, she would be sure to corner Lucius the moment he dared to show his face one more.

Her lips pressed tightly together—and when he did…!

* * *

><p>Lucius appeared in the silence and privacy of his study with the usual quiet pop. He dusted himself for invisible dust and then stepped out of his traveling cloak, hanging on the rack beside the door.<p>

He listened for a moment, feeling out through his Veela bond to note Severus's usual quiet and then through the triad bond to feel for Narcissa's calming presence. He was mildly worried to find his wife a mass of jumbled emotions and his son, a rather dull void when he probed the magical family bonds between them all.

Exiting the study, he nearly bowled the woman over—succeeding in toppling them both to the ground, with a hastily whispered cushioning charm to avert any possible disaster.

"Cissy?" He blinked, somewhat stupidly, frozen as he stared into the agitated face of his lovely wife, her skin pale, her eyes flecked with tinges of lilac. Her tempting lips were pursed in a straight line, a sure sign of her annoyance.

"Get off me!" His darling wife, hissed. "I mean it—now, Lucius!" She wriggled helplessly beneath him for a moment. His deceptively slender figure hid the fact that every ounce of that slimness was tempered muscle and a decent weight.

She'd forgotten that again—never mind how good it felt to feel him on top of her—no! She had to focus, to focus on more important things, more important things than-. "Lucius!" She huffed. "Off…I can't breathe!"

He did so—albeit a tad clumsily, the wide range of emotions sending his empathic Veela nature into a tailspin as far as the bond was concerned. "Narcissa?" He took the cue of her usage of his full name and immediately adopted a more serious nature when he took in her face in the pale light of the hallways.

Immediately, the lighting sconces in the hallway rose several notches brighter so he could examine her fully. He caught her by the wrist, holding tight even as she tried to pull away, silver eyes roaming quickly over her slender figure.

"Draco." He said, a moment later, having satisfied himself that she was fine—physically at least. "What's wrong with Draco?"

"I don't know!" Desperation laced her voice. "You're never quite here when I need you, Luce! He's been like this all month and you've been all-!"

"Shhh!" He drew her to him with a sharp tug and pulled just as deeply on his veela nature. His instincts all but screamed at him to protect his child and calm his wife. It was a toss-up as to which came first, as he could draw equal parts of distress from both bonds in his mind. Narcissa won the mental tug of war, mostly because she was there in his arms. It took some extra effort to channel the calming magic within to the decidedly distressed woman without.

Several minutes later, a somewhat sleepy Lady Malfoy relaxed in the arms of her Lord. "Why don't you go to the library and wait?" He suggested, rubbing her arms up and down for warmth and reassurance. "I'll check on Draco and be there shortly."

She gave a slow nod, still in the calm-induced trance he'd cast over her.

He watched her go, frowning as she disappeared from view. He turned his steps towards his son's bedroom and entered.

The sight that caught him brought the same painful clench his heart had felt when he'd first laid eyes on Severus Snape.

In that moment, he knew what was wrong.

"But how?" He asked the room, smoothing his hand over Draco's forehead and brushing away the sweaty bangs from the pale skin. "You shouldn't suffer so, child." He whispered. "Not for six or seven years at least."

He did his best to make the boy as comfortable as possible, holding him close as another seeming nightmare passed and then settling him down amongst the sheets, charming them to stay cool and casting another charm to let him know if the boy needed him or his mother.

Exiting the room, he took a breath and headed for the library, using the walking time to think. The truth was painfully obvious, but he didn't really appreciate the reality of it. He'd heard a few stories of such things—but they had been from his mother and they had never discussed any of the tales in depth. He hadn't thought there was much truth to them.

Now he was wishing he'd paid better attention.

* * *

><p>"Luce!" Narcissa sprang to her feet the moment his shadowed figure graced the library doorway. Within moments, they were in each other's arms, taking and giving the necessary comfort. He smoothed his hands through her now suddenly curly hair.<p>

"Cissy?" He cradled her face between his hands, pressing kisses to her eyes, cheeks and furrowed brow. "You're alright. It's fine. We're fine. Draco will be fine."

"But he's not fine right now!" She trembled in his arms, allowing the closeness to soothe her worrying heart. "Surely—he's too young, Lucius, he's too young!"

He held her close and ran his fingers through her hair until the curls relaxed into the straight, silken locks that he knew her for. "Are you calm now?" He asked, after a few minutes.

She smiled at him. "Calm enough, I suppose. How was Severus? Did you find him?"

"I did. This afternoon." He smiled in return. "He's been at Hogwarts all this time, you know."

"All this time?" Her pale brows furrowed into a line. "I thought that perhaps that old fool of a wizard had sent him on some ridiculous mission again." She pulled away from his embrace, her hands shifting to rest on her hips, anger easily replacing all earlier emotions. "Why that-!" She huffed. "Just wait until I get my hands on him! He's been staying away all this time because of what?" She demanded. "Did he-"

"I asked him to come."

"Asked him or begged him?" She snapped, eyes flashing. "He's hardly even-"

"He said he'd come soon."

"Soon? How soon is soon?" She threw back. "Lucius, I can't bear this! I watch you and I see Draco and-"

"And you miss him as well." Lucius said, simply. He sighed, turning away and taking a seat on one of the armchairs by the fireplace.

"I do not!" She protested, but even as she did, a pale pink flush dusted her creamy complexion. "I just…when is he coming?"

"I don't know."

"But he'll come?"

"Yes."

"He promised?"

"He said he would and he never says things that he wouldn't follow through on."

"You're sure?" There was the faintest thread of raw hope in her voice as Narcissa inched forward, joining him on the armchair handle, easing herself into his lap. She missed Severus too. Even though a triad wizard bond was rare and sacred, it was nowhere near the mated bond that Lucius and Severus shared as mated Veela. However, she would still feel the abandonment after a time and would crave the touch of both wizards, regardless.

As if sensing her thoughts, Lucius began to rub small circles on her back with one hand. The double bonds amplified it for him and he could pick up easily on her distress and worry now that the bond with Severus had been satisfied. He hoped the Potions Master wouldn't linger too long at Hogwarts. He wanted him home. He needed him home. They needed him home. "I'm sure." He whispered.

* * *

><p>The couple sat in silence for a long time, merely enjoying the other's company, while their mind's focused on the one party of their triad that was currently missing, namely, one Severus Snape.<p>

Narcissa had calmed considerably, when Lucius had thought to share the few precious moments of happiness with Severus through the triad bond currently holding them as man and wife. She had perked up at once, basking in the feelings of love and tender adoration that her husband patiently fed her.

The smile they'd shared at the moment was delightfully bittersweet.

The silence lingered a moment longer and then, she dared to speak, directing the conversation towards the only other thing bothering her at the moment. "Do you think he'd know what was wrong with Draco?"

"There's nothing wrong with Draco." Lucius traced the line of her jaw with one gentle finger. "He's just…he's found his soulmate a little sooner than most of us."

"You're sure?"

"All the signs are there."

"Perhaps, but so young, surely it's not…couldn't it be something else?"

"I'd rather it wasn't and you would too, if you knew what the other options were."

"That depends." She snorted. "I've a right to think otherwise, I'm not…like you and Severus." She bit her lip. "You've hardly paid any attention to him this past month though. Don't expect him to be all smiles when he sees you tomorrow." She poked his chest with one sharp fingernail. "He's been having nightmares. I haven't. I haven't even been sleeping. You've hardly paid any attention to me either!"

"I suppose I could remedy that." He kissed the tip of her nose. "But not tonight, if you would."

"I couldn't handle tonight."

"Mmm." He acknowledged. "We're all on edge, aren't we?"

"Describe 'on edge', my darling." She pinched his ear with two sharp-nailed fingers. "I've been out of sorts, even Mrs. Zabini said Draco was his perfectly shadowed version of your temper and you've been a downright bastard." She snuggled close, nestling her head beneath his neck. "I'm glad you found him. I hope he was in a temper."

"Me too and he wasn't…really. He was glad to see me." He hesitated. "And I'm sorry. I didn't meant to, I don't-"

"Don't be." She sighed, softly. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's not something either of us have control over, is it? We just have to live and let live with it."

A soft pop echoed in the room and both turned as one.

Silence settled as the couple stared, neither daring to believe what was before their very eyes.

"Luce?" Her voice trembled.

"Yes?"

"There's a little boy on the floor."

"Yes."

"His head is bleeding."

"Yes."

"There is a real boy on the floor?"

Lucius felt a slight chill ripple through him. Something about that child had set off a feeling he hadn't felt in years. He didn't like it at all. "Off, Cissy." He nudged her lightly, taking in the faintest rise and fall of the child's chest. The boy was breathing—barely—it seemed. The little body was bruised and battered quite visibly, even though dwarfed by the oversized muggle clothing of a T-shirt and sweatpants. The very real magical signature literally radiating from the child was enough to draw the pureblood from his tangled thoughts. The child was indeed real no matter how strange the situation. "He's real." He confirmed, pushing away the disturbing thoughts for later perusal.

"How did he get in?" The blonde slid off his lap and immediately dropped to her knees beside the fireplace and the scrawny little child that had just popped into existence beside the darkened tiles. Lucius was straight behind her, taking up a position on the boy's right, as his wife whipped out her wand and began to cast a series of diagnostics over the still body. "I thought the wards and the house-"

"I might have forgotten to strengthen them." Lucius almost shrugged, before stopping himself with the knowledge that pureblooded wizards simply did not resort to such primitive methods of communication. He settled for lifting his chin a notch higher instead.

"You never forget, dear." Narcissa said, absently. She tentatively reached a hand towards the boy and rested it lightly on the dark mop of hair.

"Is he…?"

"He's alive." She said, tersely. "Barely, he's in a bad way." She chewed her lower lip, a darkening scowl beginning to slip on her face. "The monsters that did this to a child ought to be flayed alive and fed to-"

"His head, the blood-?"

She gave a slight jerk of her head. "_Accio_ medi-kit!" The library doors opened to admit the floating article in question while she turned to the empty space beside her. "Dobby?"

The house elf appeared at once. "Dobby be here, mistress!" He bobbed his head. "What mistress be wanting?"

She bit her lip a little harder at the bad grammar, but tucked the thought away for later. Literally everything she told the creature went in one ear and right out the other. "Water and bandages, quickly!"

Dobby gave a squeak and disappeared with a pop.

"Cissy, look!" Lucius had feathered a hand across the child's forehead only to find his fingers brushing against a scar that made the chill from before deepen by several degrees.

Her jaw dropped. She stared for a long moment and then swallowed hard. "Never mind that." She swatted his hand away. "Wherever he's been, whoever's been keeping him—they haven't done a good job."

"Cissy-!"

"They've made a bloody mess of it!"

"Narcissa!"

"Don't you even dare think of telling me we're sending him back."

"Something must have happened."

"Have a heart, Lucius!"

"We don't know what's happened!"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that out!" She shot back. "Dobby!"

The house elf appeared once more, his arms a messy tangle of clean bandage rolls and a bowl of warmed water balanced on his head.

"Dobby!" Lucius grabbed the bowl as it tipped to the floor. He sent his trademark scowl to the excitable creature and quickly divested it of the requested bandages. "Go!" The creature popped away with an audible squeak at the glower directed to it.

"Stop terrorizing it!" Narcissa snapped. "And put the bowl over here."

"You do know what you're doing, right?"

She fixed him with a rather decent glare. "Are you trying to be amusing? Now is not the time for it, man!"

He handed over the bowl. "Is there-!"

"Stay quiet and out of my way at the moment." She frowned, concentrating with pursed lips. A moment later, the change showed. Her pink lips turned a pale purple and a sheen of sparkles scattered across her forehead and into her hair, her ears taking on the trademark pointed tips.

Lucius wisely held his tongue. It wasn't every day he saw his wife call on her fae nature, nor was it an ordinary occurrence when she allowed him to be present for the change and what few features denoted her status. She was pureblood—or had been, until the day an errant pixie had bitten her under the willow tree in the Malfoy's backyard.

Now, the fae nature settled into her, providing the pureblooded lady with the healing knowledge of the fae that gifted those with children. She cast a faint glow of pale, silver sparkles over the resting body and then directed her wand at the bandages at the water.

She hesitated, for a moment, then conjured a needle from a hairpin from her bun and pricked the tip of her finger. A drop of blood splashed into the water, coloring it a soft pink. Her hand went to her mouth, but Lucius was quicker, he caught it and stuck it in his mouth, sucking softly for the healing properties of his saliva to make quick work of the discomfort.

She thanked him with a half-smile, pulling her hand free, then a moment later then hung her head over the water bowl, squeezing her eyes shut and reaching one hand towards the child. She rested it lightly on one bruised forearm and pressed her lips tightly together as the earlier glow of energy left the little body and was absorbed into the hand resting on the child.

Within a moment's silence, two lone tears trickled out of her eyes and splashed into the bowl. The water swirled from soft pink to a pale, pearl green. She opened her eyes, placing the bandages to soak in the bowl and then turned to the boy.

"His magic is strong." He said, at last.

"It would have to be."

"He shouldn't be here."

"He shouldn't have been where he was."

"Someone will come for him."

"And when they do, I'll kill them or you can do it for me."

"Is that you speaking or your fae?"

"Shut up, Lucius! You've been a downright-"

A quiet whimper from the floor silenced both of them at once and then Narcissa snapped her fingers at the fireplace, coaxing the flames to rise higher and provide a touch more warmth to the room.

She watched as darkened eyelashes fluttered faintly and then as soft pink lips pursed in pain, a furrow settling into the too-young brow and then, brilliant green eyes stared up at her. She blinked, willing the few tears that had come to stay back now.

"Hello love." Her voice was soft, whispery. "You're safe now."

* * *

><p>When Harry disappeared from that dark little corner, he hadn't really been thinking much beyond the fact that he wanted to be somewhere safe where people cared about him. Somewhere that people wouldn't hurt him every time he dared to even breathe.<p>

He hadn't expected anything to happen.

He hadn't thought it was possible.

When the strange pulling sensation jerked through his body, the strain and stress of it all was too much. Little Harry had blacked out. There wasn't much else he was able to do. Thankfully, it made his arrival a tad more painless, as he wasn't awake to feel it.

Of course, he'd barely been there for several minutes before his consciousness began to return to him. There were voices nearby and they seemed to be arguing.

Like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

Harry tried not to shudder.

They sounded close—the voices, that is. He hoped they couldn't see him, but somehow he figured that they did and if they could see him, then it probably wasn't a good idea to move.

His awareness settled in as Harry began to wake. The first thing that registered—naturally—was the pain. The deep, pressing pain that seemed to come from all corners at once and intent on crushing his head to pieces.

A whimper of pain escaped before he could help himself and fear prompted him to open his eyes and see what punishment would be meted out for daring to make a sound in the presence of his self-righteous relative caretakers.

Shock and surprise registered when he found himself staring up into pretty pale purple eyes set in the loveliest face he'd ever set eyes on. Almost angelic in nature, with white-blonde hair and a trace of rich, chestnut brown streaking through several strands at the top, pale lilac lips complimented the matching eyes and a halo of sparkles seemed to cover the entire face.

At that, little Harry began to cry.

He'd done it after all.

He'd really done it.

He was dead.

He'd died and gone to heaven.

And surely there was no way even heaven would take him when he hadn't managed to become a good freak on earth.

The pain grew worse and hot tears began to leak out of his eyes.

Distress showed plainly on the face of the pretty lady as something soft dabbed at the corners of his eyes and he heard her speaking from very far away. She was saying something, he was sure that she was saying something, but suddenly, he found that his voice wasn't quite working and it was getting harder to even understand her.

Panic settled in threefold.

He really was dead—and he'd almost gone to heaven and now, now he was going to go where all the bad people went! The magic hadn't been good after all. He should've known better. Freaks like him weren't worthy of magic—much less good magic—if such a treasure did indeed exist.

He'd done the unthinkable and angered something or someone and then of course, he'd died. He'd have to have died.

A heart-wrenching cry tore through the air in the Malfoy library.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just to clear things up: Narcissa is part fae due to a pixie bite from a rare clan of pixies, but it is a well-kept secret between her Lucius and Severus. She mostly taps into her fae side for healing powers and the like, it amplifies her mothering instincts. The three of them are in a triad bond/relationship allowing her to 'share' Lucius and allowing him the Veela bond with Severus. Draco is also 3 years older than Harry. ^_^ Thanks for reading. **


	3. Soul Magic

**A/N: It's practically the weekend again! And that means another update, at least, seeing as my muse is happy to be working on this fic. Thank you all SO much for taking the time to comment. I am glad you are enjoying the story. Thank you as well to everyone who added this little fic to your alerts and favorites. I hope you enjoy chapter three. I did a dual POV, so I hope you enjoy the read! **

**See chapter one for disclaimers and warnings. I own nothing, save for my own plot bunny.**

**WARNING: This fic contains multiple pairings and slash, including Severus x Lucius x Narcissa as well as mentions of child abuse.**

* * *

><p>Draco twisted in the sheets, trying and failing to wake from the nightmares that haunted him. He hated them, oh how he hated them. But he could never wake from the dreams until they were finished and tonight, they were even worse than usual. He could see a shadowed figure cowering from a bulky villain that was twice more hurt than hulk and yet, somehow, it was worse from his point of view as he watched, a helpless spectator.<p>

He was vaguely aware that some of them had dimmed in intense the emotions a few times. Perhaps when his mother might have come to check on him—or so he hoped. He'd felt the soothing, loving sensations wrapped around him twice and then, when the nightmares had completely faded, the wonderful presences had left.

Then the nightmares had returned.

Draco whimpered. He really didn't like this.

He wished he was awake and then he wished that he could tear into that hulking villain—anything to make them leave that little shadow alone.

A shudder wracked through his young body and the blond twisted in agony amongst the sheets. The charmed coolness did little to soothe his fevered thrashes and when the last nightmare had almost petered out, a stab of pain pierced through his chest.

That woke him up in short order.

He sat bolt upright in bed at the same moment an unearthly scream seemed to echo through the entire Malfoy Manor.

Draco blinked.

The sound seemed to linger in the air.

He shivered quite violently and visibly in his bed and then began to fumble around for his practice wand. His parents let him use small, harmless spells when he was home—never mind that he ought not to be doing 'real magic' according to the magical law, but there would be no one here to hold him to such things.

"_Lumos_!" He whispered, sliding out from beneath the covers and reaching for his dressing gown and slippers. The gown was missing—Dobby had probably come to launder it while he was asleep and as usual, had forgotten to replace it with a suitable substitute.

Draco scowled. _Idiot house elf_. He'd have to tell Mother again, Father would only scowl and yell and that wouldn't produce any kind of result. Another shiver ran through him, this time from the cold and naught to do with darkness and shadows and weird nightmares. With a bit of a pout and a touch of a scowl painted on his face, young master Malfoy ventured out of his bedroom.

The memory of the scream was fresh in his mind and the pain in his chest had curiously changed into a strong pull, compelling him to seek out the source of it. Shuffling along the dimly lit corridors, Draco made his way to the Malfoy library, guided by the persistent tugging in his chest and the ache tingling through his body.

* * *

><p>The scream had caught him off-guard.<p>

Of all the things Lucius Malfoy—pureblood wizard, mated Veela and ex-dark wizard—had been expecting, it most certainly was not that.

The first reaction was normal—to recoil and respond, but he was a Malfoy and Malfoys did not act like every common witch or wizard. So, he stayed where he was and opted for the safe reaction of no reaction at all.

It had been a sound of complete and utter distress.

Lucius felt himself grow hollow inside as he recognized the scream for the amplified cry that it was. A vague memory stirred in the back of his mind at the sound that Severus had made that one day he had finally found the Potions Master and broken down the last of the shadowed man's barriers.

The cry had tugged at the very heartstrings of his soul.

Harry Potter was crying for his soulmate to find him.

Great heaving sobs came from the little boy on the hearth.

Lucius stared, his mind whirling, searching for something to say because all other responses certainly weren't polite for the present company, particularly when the present company consisted of a lady and a child.

His wife clapped a hand over her mouth and turned to him with teary eyes. He could feel waves of calming magic literally falling off of her, the fae within disturbed on a level that neither witch nor wizard could understand.

"Lucius?"

The blond hesitated.

The door to the library clicked open and a sleepy, pajama-clad Draco stood in the doorway, rubbing one cold foot atop the other. His practice wand was in hand with a dimming glow at the tip. "Mother?" He yawned, scrubbing at his face with one hand and squinting as if he could not believe the second figure that was present. "Father?" The wand dropped to the floor, rolling away as Draco stared.

"Draco." Lucius was on his feet as the boy launched himself forward. He caught the shivering figure in his arms, hugging him close and pressing a kiss to the cold hair. "You're freezing. Where's your robe?" Without a pause, the older man drew him into the warmer folds of his formal robes and felt his forehead. He cast a warming charm on the pajamas out of habit, making a mental note to remind himself to teach his son the spell later on.

"Who is that?" Draco was twisting away from the protective embrace, staring curiously at the newcomer.

Harry's cries dimmed significantly, ebbing down to whimpers.

"Ah, well." Lucius looked to his wife, torn between the natural impulse to comfort his own child and then to help the one lying at his feet. The Veela in him was screaming for action of any kind and it was scrambling his normally logical thought processes. He looked to his transformed wife for help.

Narcissa reached into the bowl with the soaking bandages. She wrung it in slow careful movements, her brow furrowed as she continued to project the calming magic towards the distressed boy.

"It's a boy." Draco freed himself from his father's arms and scooted close, dropping down to his knees by the hearth and tentatively reaching a hand towards the pale arm closest to him. The blond traced a very faint line on the back of the little boy's palm.

Harry stopped crying.

The bright green eyes popped open, looking about wildly as Draco leaned forward in fascination to stare into the tear-filled orbs.

"Hello." He said, importantly. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

They stared at each other.

"Well," Draco prompted. "Now you're supposed to tell me who you are." He gently poked the hand he'd touched a moment before.

More tears rolled down the thin, dirty cheeks. Silent tears.

"You do have a name, don't you?"

"Draco, he has been through quite an ordeal." Narcissa took the soft cloth from the floor and dipped it in the warm and magicked water. "You can talk to him later, right now I need to heal him." She reached towards Harry with slow movements. "I am not going to hurt you." She said, softly.

But as she reached towards him with the cloth, Harry jerked to life with painful, awkward movements, sitting upright for a moment, before a spasm of pain caused him to shudder. He wobbled for a moment, but before he could fall backwards onto the bricks, Draco had scooted forward.

He caught Harry easily, with one arm around the shoulders and the other around his waist in a half-hug. Worry immediately shone through his tempered silver eyes. "Hey." There was a touch of uncertainty and a bit of indignance in his voice. He opened his mouth to continue when Harry melted into the impromptu embrace.

The silver in Draco's eyes flashed and a quiver ran through his body before a spark of golden magic—wild magic—leapt between the two young figures. It faded just as soon as it had come to life and the older Malfoys stared in a mixture of shock and surprise.

Draco was the first to react, blinking rapidly for a moment and then staring down at his armful with an expression akin to amazement and wonderment. "You're mine." He said, a nervous chuckle escaping. "You're really mine."

The blond's head snapped up as he looked from one parent to the other. "Can I keep him? Please?"

"Keep him?" Narcissa repeated, not quite trusting her ears.

"Yes!" Draco straightened, clutching the precious armful closer to himself. "He's not very big or very…anything. But…he's mine. He feels like—I can keep him, can't I? I like him already." Draco graced the boy in his arms with a rare smile. "Please let me keep him. Mother? Father?"

"You can't keep a person." Narcissa managed to get out.

Lucius stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. "Before we get to the issue of…keeping." He swallowed. "Your new…friend, is in a great deal of pain. We need to-"

"Call the healers then. They can fix him, can't they?"

Harry shrunk into the embrace, curling himself up as if to make his small form nearly nonexistent. He stared out at them from the comfort of his position curled up against Draco. The bright green eyes continued to shimmer, meaningfully.

Draco looked down at him and smiled again—twice in one night. "It's okay. They can help you feel better. It doesn't really hurt."

"Er," Lucius blinked to break the stare, turning to find his wife looking between him and their son. She pursed her lips, apparently not about to comment on whatever it was that she'd seen between them. "Your mother would like to try first. Perhaps we should-?"

"The closest guest bedroom." Narcissa surged gracefully to her feet, the bowl of soaking bandages and the cooled cloth in hand. "Bring him. Carefully!"

"Of course." Lucius murmured. He turned back to the boys and took another moment to remind himself to remain calm in present company.

Harry was asleep.

Draco smiled.

Three times in a row. Lucius wondered if Narciss would hex him for wishing he had a glass of firewhiskey right then.

* * *

><p>Death was kind of nice.<p>

Or so Harry decided.

It seemed like he was in that place where people went before they died.

Or something awfully close to it anyhow, he didn't know. No one had ever told him of such things. He did know that a lot of things hurt right now and some of them were even worse than he could ever remember them being.

He was still cold—though it seemed as if there was something warm close by.

He was still hurting—everywhere it seemed.

He was still empty—that strange, haunting feeling hadn't left him yet. The ache that continued on was even worse. Harry didn't know what to do about it—he couldn't explain it even if someone had asked and somehow, he had a feeling that it would never go away.

But then he pushed such depressing things from his mind and tried to focus on where he was and what was happening.

Someone had spoken and said something.

The pretty angel lady had begun to frown almost at once—after she'd spoken the first few words that Harry couldn't quite understand, she spoke a little quicker than he was used to. It was harder to read her lips than Aunt Petunia's.

Harry tried to focus, but all he could feel back was pain and a deep sorrow that seemed too big to wrap his head around. There were warm waves of something tumbling over him, but Harry didn't know what it was so, he didn't dare let it help him, even as the warmth tangled over him, begging to soothe the rawness within.

When he'd screamed, it had sounded something like a dulled cry in his stoppered ears. The realization took a little longer to register, before Harry understood that even his most frantic cries were nearly mere whispers to his own ears.

He couldn't stop the tears that continued to pour down his cheeks and then, something in his chest gave a rather sharp, painful tug when the atmosphere in the new place suddenly changed.

Then he heard something.

A voice, clear as crystal and humming, it seemed.

Harry listened as the voice greeted people in the room. He tried to open his eyes, hating himself when the very effort seemed to take more energy than he could spare. At one point, he might have cried again—and that's when fire touched his hand.

His eyes flew open, the burning touch sending ripples of sensitivity through his injured body.

The burning, tugging, aches in his heart dimmed to faint twinges and tugs.

In that moment, Harry decided Heaven was probably closer to wherever this place was. A boy sat next to him, with lovely blond hair and startlingly silver eyes. Harry could see him even closer and clearer than he had the angel lady. This boy was too special to be real, Harry thought. Everything about him was nearly perfect and then, he had touched him—him, a little dirty freak! Then the beautiful boy spoke as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy."

Harry stared. He could hear him! Goodness, he could hear an angel! Joy, confusion and worry blurred through his emotions as a matter of course. Someone or something somewhere, cared. He would try his best to never forget such a wonderful opportunity. He had barely heard the first one, but this one—he could hear him!

Little Harry didn't know what to say to that, though he doubted that he could spare the energy to even speak at all. His throat hurt something awful and his mouth was drier than the cracked dirt in Aunt Petunia's garden during the drought last summer.

He did know that this new person was someone special though. It had to be. Harry could still feel the strange warmth from a simple touch tingling through to his toes. It sent a peaceful calm through him like the light summer rain on a warm night.

It burned pleasantly through his aching body, offering a strange kind of comfort that Harry eagerly drank up.

He liked this angel-boy.

He liked him very much.

Maybe they could be friends.

Maybe.

Angels were nice.

They were supposed to help people. Care for them and rescue them from bad things and now there were two of them. Maybe pretty lady had needed more help to rescue him.

Maybe he wasn't dead.

"Well, now you're supposed to tell me who you are." Angel-Draco prompted.

Harry felt his eyes water and consequently brim with tears that immediately spilled over. He'd love to answer, yes he would, but his voice was nowhere near cooperating with his wishes, no matter how hard he tried.

And he did try. Harry wanted desperately to speak, at least to this lovely person that even took the care to ask him his very own name.

The Angel-Draco poked his hand, gently.

Another wave of warmth, love and calm washed over Harry, sinking deeper than the one that had come before and seeming to settle into him instead of glossing over.

"You do have a name, don't you?" There was a faintly accusatory tone in the Angel-Draco's voice as if he thought Harry was holding back on him.

Panic flooded through him, but Harry still couldn't answer.

Something caught the Angel-Draco's attention though and he looked up at something. Harry followed his gaze to the pretty angel lady from before. She was shimmering it a halo of sparkles it seemed, but when he looked from her to the boy, he decided that the boy was just as nice.

He didn't sparkle the way she did, but something about him had immediately clicked. Harry wished he was closer. He wished that whatever Good Magic was inside the angel boy stayed right where it was—maybe it could help him.

Maybe.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Harry reacted before he could help himself. He could only see the blurry shape beside him coming closer. A darker shape, a startling contrast from the clear image of Angel-Draco beside him.

He jerked upright with every snippet of energy he had in his body.

It hurt.

It hurt something fierce.

As if he'd been run over by Uncle Vernon's station wagon and left there on the hot asphalt.

Pain. Everywhere.

The sudden exchange in balance threw him off. Harry realized he was going to fall before his brain screamed at him that falling would hurt almost as badly as he was hurting now.

But the fall never came.

The same burning warmth he'd felt before was suddenly all around him.

A thick band around his shoulders, bracing gently, but firmly and a similar band of warmth resting somewhere on his side, stretched across his stomach and then, blessed, blissful numbness.

The pain dulled to virtually nothing when Harry's shoulder connected with the source of the warmth.

A surge of gratefulness bubbled up to the surface and Harry felt his eyes burn with tears once more. He didn't care. Someone else did and it felt so, so good!

"Hey!" The Angel-Draco spoke.

But Harry simply gave up the struggle to handle it all on his own. He sagged bonelessly into the steady warmth and comfort that had been offered to him. As long as it was given, he'd take it and enjoy every second of it.

And then Harry felt a strangle cold tingle run through him, almost ruthless in its urgency to extract itself from him. He stared with wide eyes as a thread of gold light literally leapt from his chest and intertwined itself with a strand of gold light that seemed to spring free from the angel boy. The strands danced around each other and then plunged into the opposite bodies.

A squeak of surprise left his lips and Harry felt like crying again—but this time, for sheer joy.

Joy exploded inside him, singing through his veins and coursing through his blood. The fluttering wings of hope sprouted in his chest, reviving with every steadily stronger breath he took. The emptiness had been replaced with a sudden sense of fulfillment and the ache was gone.

It was simply gone.

There was nothing there but rather, a great big ball of warmth and happiness.

"You're mine." Harry heard the Angel-Draco say. "You're really mine."

Harry didn't know what that meant, but he didn't really care. If the angel boy said that he belonged to him, then Harry wasn't going to argue. The angel boy would take good care of him, at least.

"Can I keep him? Please?"

Harry wished he had the energy to move. He didn't even bother as more happy tears spilled out of his eyes. The angel boy wanted him!

Mumbles in the background made him strain to hear, but Harry couldn't make them out anymore.

If he could have shrugged, he might have. Because it didn't matter anymore, as long as he could hear the angel boy, he didn't care. Everyone else could mumble all they wanted. Harry almost smiled as the warmth—he now recognized them as the angel boy's arms—wrapped tightly around him.

"He's not very big or very…anything. But…he's mine. He feels like—I can keep him, can't I? I like him already."

The Angel-Draco looked down at him and smiled.

Harry stared up at him in wonder, drinking in the expression on the lovely face. It was pure, simple and sincere. It said everything that Harry needed in that moment and suddenly, he didn't mind the earlier comment of not being very big or anything.

"Please let me keep him. Mother? Father?"

Oh. So the angel lady was the angel boy's son. No, Angel-Draco's mother, Harry corrected himself. He hoped that Draco's mother would agree. He didn't mind being kept at all. As long as Angel-Draco would remember to hold him like this and smile every once in a while, Harry was sure he could handle whatever it was they asked of him.

More mumbles sounded around him.

"Call the healers then. They can fix him, can't they?" Angel-Draco demanded.

There was an answering mumble and fear shot through Harry. A similar memory with those very words came into head, threatening to tear away what fragile hope and happiness had just come to settle there.

He remembered the accident with the station wagon in the summer and how Aunt Petunia had snuck him off to the hospital, when she'd found him lying in the driveway. She'd asked the doctors there to fix him—to get rid of the freakishness.

They'd tried.

It had hurt.

Harry shrank away mentally and physically. Suddenly, it didn't matter. Maybe, if he was really quiet and really small, they wouldn't notice anything and perhaps they might decide that he wasn't worth the trouble of going to the doctor's office. That would be nice. That would be perfect. He didn't want to go back to a doctor's office ever again!

"It's okay. They can help you feel better. It doesn't really hurt." Angel-Draco told him. He smiled again.

Harry was breathless.

The heady happiness swam around in his head and whatever defenses he'd hastily constructed in the confines of his new cocoon of comfort, immediately crumbled at the look on the blond's face.

A wave of tiredness washed over him and Harry didn't even try to fight it. He focused on the warmth as the blackness claimed him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Harry could see/hear Narcissa at first, because he hadn't found his soulmate yet. When Draco entered the equation and completed the bond through touch and a pure interest to help/care, etc. the bond was activated and explains why he can see Draco clearly (without his glasses!) and hear him, even though everything else around him is muted/muffled. Harry also still thinks he's somewhere in limbo, hence the angel mentions for now. I hope you enjoyed the read! Let me know what you think. ^_^**


	4. Confuse Me, Please

**A/N: Happy weekend and here's the next chapter! Thank you all SO much for taking the time to comment. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I enjoy every review. Thank you as well to everyone who added this little fic to your alerts and favorites. I'm not quite happy with this Chapter 4, but I know I have a tendency to try and make everything too perfect, so I'm simply going to go ahead and post this chapter as it. Let me know what you think, if it fits, or if I ought to listen to my perfectionist side, eh?  
><strong>

**See chapter one for disclaimers and warnings. I own nothing, save for my own plot bunny.**

**WARNING: This fic contains multiple pairings and slash, including Severus x Lucius x Narcissa and Draco x Harry s well as mentions of child abuse.**

* * *

><p>"Lucius?" Narcissa stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom, having already deposited her bowl. She now had her arms wrapped tightly around her as several violent shudders wracked her body. A very visible argument between her inner witch against her inner fae.<p>

Her husband hesitated, careful to keep his distance from her as he met her teary eyes with his own anguished-filled ones. He knew better than to invade the personal space of a distraught fae and distraught was most certainly the barrel of emotions that his darling wife was channeling at this moment. He hoped she would calm down. He hoped he could calm her down. At the moment, he felt anything but calm.

Tearing his hair out and screaming at the top of his lungs seemed like a decent solution that would bring absolutely no results.

There was nothing in this realm to prepare him for handling an abused child—and that was most certainly what all the visible evidence had pointed to, the moment he'd laid eyes on Harry.

There was also nothing that explained what one was supposed to do when wizarding wonder Harry Potter simply tumbled into your library in such a state—beyond a song and dance of course—and Lucius had a feeling that neither song nor dance would helpful either, or appropriate.

Quite frankly, he didn't know what to do.

He should—he felt—but didn't.

There were the usual logical courses of action and he'd been with Severus through enough to know some things that were acceptable and some that were not. His dear mate was the fierce head of house for Slytherin, a house often with abused children and sorts of issues that took more patience and tough love than Lucius had ever known.

He jerked his mind to the present, aware that Narcissa was speaking to him. He had to focus and concentrate now—had to! Now was not the time to be slipping.

"How could they do that to a child, Luce?" She bit her lip. "And what just happened out there? Tell me what just happened out there!"

"Now, loveling, calm yourself." The blond tried to project an air of calmness that he absolutely did not feel. He wished that Severus had sent over the monthly batch of potions for his family. He was in need of at least a Calming Draught or two or four or maybe…well, four was a good number, any more would probably leave in a less than desirable state. Lucius cleared his throat and tried again. "Shh, Cissy. Surely you saw for yourself what happened. Even if I explain it, it does not mean that it did not happen."

"They are too young for this, Lucius!" She exclaimed. "Far too young! They are boys, children. Children should at least be allowed to be…child-like, even if only for a few short years. There will be nothing left now!"

"Fate plays a strange game." He returned, grimly. There would not be nothing, in fact there would be quite a bit of something, but he knew the fae in his wife was currently crying for Draco's childhood that had been cut short. This was to be the last year between them as a private family before Draco was expected to attend Hogwarts. There were many things they'd had planned out for this final year. The arrival of a soulmate would certainly turn everything upside down and Draco's childlike innocence would most certainly fade into the expected mannerisms and concerns that Lucius often saw and acknowledged in Severus—his dominant. Draco was just as dominant as his blood demanded and his transformation and awakening would bring about a host of changes that neither Malfoy parent had been prepared for.

Lucius had happily pushed away such thoughts until the lad's eighteenth birthday—a day that was surely at least several years off. Yet, now, that had all gone rather pear-shaped. He should have known. There was rarely a time, it seemed, when fate did not choose to meddle in his life and personal affairs and Draco was most certainly his life. Well, next to Severus of course. And Narcissa. The man shook his head. He really was losing it-and at the worst possible time too.

"I can't do this, Lucius. They can't do this!"

"What is done between Veela is not undone, you know that." He countered.

"They are children!"

"They are soulmates. You saw it just as clearly as I did. Cissy—Narcissa, I know you're in there love—Listen to me! Do not let this become a stumbling block. I would rather the Veela Council to stay uninvolved at least, for now. This is all—we will handle this. We will get through it. It's just…" _Nerves, _he told himself, darkly_. It is merely nerves and I cannot tell her that_!

"How is that even possible?" She sobbed. "I may know it well, man, but I do not have to accept it!" She hugged her arms close to herself, curling forward. "Soulmates doesn't necessarily mean that they…tell me they did not-"

"They bonded." Lucius swallowed hard. "They have and are and will remain bonded unless one of them dies, Merlin forbid!" It was best to simply repeat it until the fae in her accepted it. He wished she would transform back so that he could have a rational conversation with his wife. She was always more accepting and understanding of these sorts of things—even when he was all out of sorts himself. "There is nothing anyone can or should do about this. If his Veela nature has chosen this time to awaken, then it is for a purpose."

Narcissa gave a snort. "How easily you believe in such things."

"How can I otherwise?"

"You can!"

"Will it stop?"

"You know it will not."

She turned away from him with a half-shriek of something between pain and rage. The fae within her was more than horribly upset by the change in dynamics, magic and the appearance of little Harry. "Not yet. I have to…I must heal him!" She threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut. "Lucius!" She took a step forward.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, moving to keep the three-feet radius between them, aching with the need to move forward and comfort her, but knowing that the fae within, would not permit such contact in its present state of agitation. "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry." He whispered.

"I could feel it." She trembled. "I could feel his pain!" The weight in her voice made him wince. "and I can't—I couldn't—I didn't…"

"He is…resting."

"Resting?"

"He fell asleep in Draco's arms."

Her face paled even more as the fae within began to put the pieces together in a puzzle that she did not like. "Asleep?" Her mind began to replay a few choice memories of a certain dark-haired potions master and a stubborn, exhausted senior Malfoy. She'd never been able to even enter the same room as the couple during certain bouts of possessiveness—especially where the health of one or the other had been involved—nevermind her fae side. The woman swallowed hard, her lips pursed together. "Lucius…" Rationality was returning and she was beginning to see.

"I do not know." He said, in answer to her unspoken question. "That will be up to Draco, but I do believe he will see reason."

A spot of color returned to her cheeks. "See that he does." She managed, whirling about and heading towards the nearest guest room. She'd busy herself with the bowl of soaking, charmed bandages. "Hurry and bring him quickly!" If she didn't tend to him soon, the healing magic in the water would fade. Her fae blood would see to that. It kept such potent healing talents out of the hands of the wrong folk.

Lucius gave a resigned sigh and merely watched her walk down the hallway before he turned back to the library. Confusion seemed destined to follow him for the rest of his life.

* * *

><p>"Draco?" Lucius called, softly. He had knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce his presence, his own hackles in a tentative state as his Veela side babbled incessantly within his head. He needed to be careful now—very, very careful.<p>

The older boy shifted, faintly. He had gathered up little Harry into his arms, marveling at the lightness and fragile sense of the body he now cradled in his arms. It felt right and a sudden wave of possessiveness rippled through him. This little one was his—and no one else's—and he would never let them lay a hand on what belonged to him! "He hardly weighs anything, Father." There was the faintest hint of disapproval, worry and confusion in Draco's voice. "What-?"

"I fear the guardians of your…chosen, have been less than adequate." Lucius said, tactfully. The Veela within him could sense the sudden changes in emotions from Draco's newly awakened counterpart—the wave of possession had been expected—apparently, age wasn't a factor for that one. "Perhaps we can explain it at a later time. I believe your mother awaits us in the guest bedroom off of the end of the hall." Lucius tried. It would be best if he could pretend he didn't know what was going through his son's head right now. If Draco couldn't figure it out on his own, then there was no need to clarify it for the being—as long as Harry was taken care of. Short-term sacrifice, long-term goal.

Instinctively, Draco's grip on Harry tightened. "No." He said, shortly.

Lucius swallowed the sigh that threatened to break through. He'd had a long day and a somewhat emotionally trying one, if he must be honest, and he really did not want to deal with it now. But of course, the fates had yet to be kind to him and he didn't see any peace in the foreseeable future. He would have to handle this now, whether he wanted to or not.

And he really didn't want to.

"Your mother means no harm, Draco."

The newly wakened Veela in Draco was already fighting for dominance in the young boy. "N-no." He repeated, a little slower. "Not safe."

"She is safe. I know her. You know her. You know this to be true. She will not harm your chosen."

"NO!" Draco took a step backwards, even as the new, strange fear began to overtake him. He was swamped with emotions, feelings and new powers roughly coursing through him. Above the entire mess, he could hear chattering in his head, demanding that he do something.

'_Mustn't let others touch mate'_

_But…_

'_Mate is ours. Only ours'_

_He's hurt!_

'_We must heal him. Mustn't let others touch.'_

_But-!_

'_MINE! Mate is mine!'_

"Draco!"

His father's voice cut through the confusing haze, a look of concern on the usually masked face. "Breathe, son." He frowned. "And whatever is going through your head right now, ignore it in favor of your heart." Pale silver eyes drilled straight through the young boy. "You know that he needs help and you know that if it isn't-"

"I can help him!"

"Indeed you can, but that is not possible at this time." _Not possible and entirely inappropriate_. Lucius struggled to keep the mask on his face intact. It would not do to let anything show on his face right now.

"He's mine!" A low growl sounded in Draco's throat.

"Yes, son, he is yours and I will not lay a hand on him." Lucius was careful to keep his profile turned to the side, avoiding any misconceptions of his body language. Draco would either challenge him now or accept him. He had to be sure that his son would understand he meant no harm to either of them—not in this moment, anyhow.

"You had better not!" This warning was accompanied by a rather petulant pout.

"The same to you as when I wish you would not monopolize my own mate." Lucius said, rather dryly. His good humors were slowly being restored to him as he revaluated the situation. This was certainly no time nor place for humor to invite itself, but he could see a new fire and determination behind his son's eyes and it warmed him in a way he hadn't thought possible. "Come, surely he is in pain?"

Draco bit on his lower lip. Harry may have been light, but he was still heavy enough that standing around for conversation wasn't exactly comfortable. There was no way he was letting anyone else lay a hand on his chosen!

"Come before your arms give out." Lucius slipped his wand down from the holster on his arm and flicked it towards the pair, casting a featherlight charm on Harry. Normally, he would not even dare to cast magic on a child in such a condition, but he had seen the energy flowing from the soulmate bond between the boys and knew that the ritual of the raw magic would not have taken place if something such as a charm could have caused any sort of trouble.

The armful immediately lightened and Draco felt himself relax in relief almost at once. The loud jumble of conversation in his head dimmed at that and he was able to push it aside in favor of more rational thinking. The relief spread through him at a rather rapid rate and he ducked his head, sheepishly. "Thank you, Father."

"Think nothing of it. Come quickly. If he is sleeping, perhaps he will not feel any pain."

Draco growled.

Lucius perked a pale eyebrow in question.

"No one will hurt him!" Draco growled.

"Not again, if that is what you mean." A hint of fire flashed in Lucius' eyes, but he merely inclined his head to the door, a silent suggestion. He would leave this conversation unfinished for now. There were more important things to handle.

A prickle of unease washed over Draco, but he started towards the doorway. He knew that look on his father's face and had no real reason to be challenging it just yet, even if all of his senses were currently screaming at him for being smothered. He managed to get halfway across the room before it became too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperation beginning to cause dismay.

As if sensing the reason, Lucius immediately moved out to stand in the hallway without a word. Draco eyed him warily, but then exited the room, careful to be sure that his father lead, rather than followed. He wanted him where he could see him—at least, for now. The voices had sprung to life almost at once and he was too confused to handle it.

Lucius made no objection to this, staying ahead by a pace to show that he meant no harm and did nothing else beside that. If they did not have to have this particular conversation and argument then, it was all the better for him.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the guest room, the tension between them a little too obvious.<p>

Narcissa had already turned down the bed and run a bath in the adjoining bathroom. "Is he still asleep?" She started forward when they entered. A slight frown registered over her worry when she realized that Lucius had entered first and immediately moved to the furthest corner of the room. She stopped to stare at him and then realized that Draco was carrying Harry—and the dark look on her son's face was anything but inviting. "Oh dear."

"Put him on the bed, Draco." Lucius murmured. "Let your mother help. She means no harm."

Draco growled. His silvery eyes darkened a few shades.

Lucius returned a growl of his own. "She is mine!" There was an air of possessiveness to his voice. "If you will keep care of your chosen, then I will do the same for mine!"

The rumbling growl in Draco's throat slowly tapered off. His eyes lightened and a moment later, he entered the room and crossed directly to the bed where he tenderly placed the armful amongst the fluffy blanket and sheets.

With a wary look at Draco, Narcissa moved forward, the bowl of soaking bandages in hand and her wand in the other. She stood at the foot of the bed and cast several diagnostic spells, one after the other. The grim look on her face grew darker as a roll of parchment and a quill popped into existence. The quill began to write in hurried, jerky movements, continuing until the parchment reached the ground.

An angry cry ripped from her throat, startling both Veela in the room.

It was enough to shock Draco back to his regular self. "M-mother?" He had crept onto the bed, kneeling beside Harry's stomach and now he scooted back against the pillow, wide-eyed with worry and a hint of uncertainty.

"Narcissa!" Lucius recovered first and growled out her name, meaning for it to grab her attention and intending it to be a gesture of grounding.

"Look at it!" She glowered at the parchment as if it were some foul disgusting thing. "Look what they have done to him!"

"Heal him first, then speak."

The calmness and quietness in his tone worked wonders. Narcissa felt the sudden rage and anger fade away, the earlier rational thoughts asserting themselves once more and settling in accordingly. She moved to the bed, with the parchment following behind. A new thread of wariness seemed to settle over her as the sparkles gave off a pale glow.

She waved her wand banished the shirt and pants, leaving on the boy's shorts. A soft hiss was vocalized as she took in the sight of the battered body with blood-crusted scrapes and several infected wounds. She thrust the bowl into Draco's hands, meaning for it to be a way to keep him involved and from interfering.

She was glad the boy slept.

What she could do now would only cause pain.

* * *

><p>It seemed like hours before his mother finally took the emptied bowl from his hands. It probably was. Draco squirmed. Narcissa cast a warning look at him, but said nothing more as she turned and went to the bathroom. Draco watched her go and then stiffened as his father approached. Confusion and shame washed over him. He'd waited days, no—weeks—to see his father again and now that the man was here, Draco was wishing that he wasn't.<p>

"Do not trouble your head, little dragon." Lucius murmured, soothingly. "I will explain later." His gaze flickered to the still hovering parchment and he caught hold of it, drawing it close to begin reading.

"But I don't understand!"

"You understand enough."

"I don't!" Draco protested.

"I do not." Narcissa corrected. "Contractions are not becoming to a Malfoy." A hint of a smile graced her lips, but it was so faint, one might have imagined it. "What now, Luce?"

The older Veela had gone rather pale as he read each condemning line. "Someone did this to a wizarding child?" The horror in his voice was refreshed anew.

Narcissa gently rested a hand on his arm. "What will you do?" There was more weight in that simple question than she wanted, but she needed an answer. They all needed an answer and they looked to Lucius for it.

For a moment, he didn't even seem to breathe and then he carefully rolled the parchment and handed it over. "I'll call Severus."

There was nothing else to be said.

* * *

><p><em>Potions labeled. Check. <em>

_Workstation clean. Check. _

_Stasis charms placed. Check._

_Overnight bag packed. Check. _

_Gifts. Check. _

_Time to leave-!_

A soft chime sounded in the background, a brief warning before the fireplace flared to life. Someone was floo calling him. Severus stifled the oath on the tip of his tongue. There were precisely five individuals with access to his private quarters and his floo when he chose to ignore it, namely—Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, Albus and Poppy.

He could hope and it was the first three and not the last two, but his luck had never been good when it came to such things and Severus had a sinking feeling that something was about to rather horribly wrong—at least, as far as his recent plans had gone.

"Severus?" The headmaster's frantic voice filled the room.

_I should have sealed it off completely_. The Potions Master thought, grumpily. He made his way over to the fireplace and scowled down at the face imprinted in the coals. "Albus."

"Severus, this is an emergency. Something's-"

His body reacted even if the rest of him didn't really want to. His usual mask ironed itself onto his face, all current hopes shredded and locked away. He checked his The scowl on his face darkened by several shades and he reached for the floo powder on the corner of the mantle. "Step back."

The face faded.

"Headmaster's office." He intoned, throwing down the powder. In a flash of green flames, he stepped out into the headmaster's private office.

Albus Dumbledore stood beside Fawkes, a deep frown visible in his wrinkled face. There was no twinkle in his eyes, merely a thin-lipped frown that seemed awkward on the generally genial face. "Severus." He said, immediately.

Severus didn't answer, knowing the older wizard well enough that the man would tell in his own time—and sooner without his own prompting—if he was just to be silent for a few minutes.

"Harry Potter is missing."

The Potions Master blinked. There really wasn't much he could say that that. His mind was already whirling wondering what had happened and how and then of course, a sharp pang stabbed through his chest. Harry, the child of Lily and James Potter—but specifically, Lily's boy. An innocent child that cheated death seemingly out of the sheer desperation to live granted through a mother's ultimate sacrifice.

Yes, Severus wasn't quite sure what to think in that moment—anything that wouldn't give a reaction that didn't fit the situation. He had managed—with some difficulty—to accept the darkness of his own past and dare to look forward to a less bleaker future. But he knew, as he had since the day he'd come to beg for help, that as Albus Dumbledore's pawn, there was little he could do when the great wizard decided to play chess.

He would go where he was ordered and there was nothing else to be said for it.

Silence hung in the office for a tense moment and then Albus' frown grew to a glower. "Severus!" He barked, when no verbal response came from his most trusted spy.

"What would you have me do?" The dark-haired man said, smoothly.

"Go to 4 Privet Drive and report what you find." Albus could not keep the anger from his voice. He'd cast a tracking spell on the boy since birth—a special one to let me know where the boy was at all times—he checked it, regularly, to be sure that the boy was alive and well. It had never failed him and always served to reassure him that he had done right in choosing to place the boy with muggle relatives.

"Of course." The younger wizard tipped his head in understanding and turned towards the fireplace.

The glower settled into a glare. "On second thought, I believe I shall accompany you."

Severus didn't answer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And finally, we're getting somewhere. To clarify, Severus was finished with everything and about to head on over to the Malfoy's when Albus called. Draco hasn't really put much thought into his Veela side, thinking-like his father-that he won't have to deal with it for a few more years at least, so his wizard self and Veela self are kind of arguing with each other. Lucius is just a tangled mess right now and so is Narcissa. They were unprepared for this and as a result the magical creature sides of them are taking control. Cheers!**


	5. Albus and Severus Investigate

**Read Warnings before you proceed to understand the context and universe of this fic.**

* * *

><p><strong>Pairings: <strong>Severus Snape x Lucius Malfoy x Narcissa Malfoy and later, Draco M. x Harry P.

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own any Harry Potter anything. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just like playing with Harry in my own little world of storyville. I make no money by writing this fanfiction. All original characters are my own.

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16.

* * *

><p><strong>WARNINGS: VERY AU : <strong>Mature themes. Contains mentions and moments of slash(m/m) and femmeslash (f/f). Scenes are not explicit as per FF guidelines. There will be obvious scenes and mentions of a Dominant/Submissive dynamic. Severus is the Alpha, Lucius is a Beta and Narcissa is their Bearer. Angst. Fluff. Mentions of CP in future chapters. Creature Instincts. Possessive Veela. Other warnings will be added as I see fit.

* * *

><p><strong>PREVIOUSLY: <strong>_The Malfoys are taking care of Harry, when Albus realizes that he can no longer sense Harry at Privet Drive. He orders Snape to check on Harry and then decides to accompany him as well..._

* * *

><p>They arrived via floo, courtesy of an Arabella Figg.<p>

Severus found himself somewhat repulsed by the squib woman, but only because she reminded him of something that he could not yet place. It was not a pleasant feeling to accumulate yet another mental puzzle, but he shoved it aside for later thought. If it was important, it would come to the forefront again—somehow. He followed Albus obediently through the old, dimly-lit house and then across to the other house, 4 Privet Drive.

Albus knocked thrice on the door and waited.

No one came to open it.

Severus cast a quick look around. He didn't see a vehicle in the drive and everything seemed a bit too perfect. He shifted, uneasily, on the front porch, silently grateful that he'd thought to cast a disillusionment charm. There was something slightly off about the neighborhood that didn't sit well with his wizard self or his Veela nature.

"I don't think they're home, Albus." He said, coolly. Personally, he rather hoped that they weren't. He did not want to meet a certain horse-faced muggle by the name of Petunia Evans. Formerly Evans, if he was to be informed. Apparently Lily's rude sister had married and spawned a child of her own. He stifled a shudder at the thought of encountering either of them.

Everything he knew of Petunia had never sat well with him and he did not think he would appreciate meeting any child or husband of hers either. He resisted the urge to shift his weight, knowing it was from impatience and would only convey his annoyance, something he did not wish to be broadcasting. Albus did not need to read anything from him today. He wanted to have a weekend free to do as he pleased with his triad and son. "The car is not in the garage." He continued.

"Perhaps you are right." Albus said, smoothly. He waved his wand and with a quick _alomahora_, the door swung inward and the two wizards entered. The inside of the house was just as pristine and picture perfect as the outside.

"I'll check downstairs." Severus offered, immediately heading towards the kitchen, wand drawn. It was probably easier for him to search the upper level, but he was ticked off enough to make the older man climb the stairs. The sooner the old man was satisfied the better it would be for him.

Albus grunted in answer and glided up the stairs, his own wand held in one twitching, wrinkled hand.

* * *

><p><em>Severus? <em>

The mental probe came in at the very moment that Severus cast a spell to reveal the contents within the muggle kitchen. A door beside his head banged open with the sudden spike in magical energy. He flinched and then cursed himself for doing so. His defenses were to remain that—defensive—and the mental intrusion was not particularly welcome as usual.

He was running on more emotion than he'd realized. The weekend couldn't possibly begin fast enough. The simple kiss he'd shared with Lucius had stirred some of his creature nature to the surface and it subtly wound its way through him, seeking to influence in whatever way it could, to be helpful.

_Not now, Lucius. _He sent back, swiftly. The tentative nature of the interruption could be ignored for now. Scowling to himself, the Potions Master continued his methodical searching and cataloguing. There was something horribly off about this house and he couldn't place it yet. It niggled in the back of his mind—just like the puzzle of stepping into Arabella's home. He didn't particularly care to be puzzling over it just yet either. Never mind how off things seemed.

_Severus! _Relief filtered through the bond. _Have you left yet? Something's happened and-_

_Not. Now. _

_But-!_

_Busy._

_Severus!_

Severus did not deign to answer that. He needed to focus and concentrate on the task at hand and Lucius was definitely not helping. His magic had begun to yank him in several different directions at once and he was not sure he liked what it was telling him. With a huff, the dark-haired man continued on with his inspection. He could pinpoint the problem now. It was a fickle bubble of magic—elusive enough that he could not place it exactly—but now, it was close enough that he could actively sense it.

His footsteps carried him forward and he found himself standing in front of a strange white rectangle—a door, he realized, belatedly—set beneath the staircase leading up to the second story. The magical pull was strongest here. Severus pointed his wand and whispered the spell to open it. He stared at the tiny cupboard beneath the stairs and the cramped cot that lay there for all to see.

The scent of blood and sickness reeked from within, spilling out into the pristine house. Severus physically recoiled from the powerful wave of magic that rippled out from within it. Charms, he realized, belatedly. Ones that would keep him from altering what meager items were housed within—a few broken plastic toy soldiers, a child's drawing in black crayon and a slightly shiny rock.

His inner Veela practically screamed in rage, understanding that a child had been kept here. Besides their bonded mates, Veela were protective of their young next. The sight that lay before him was almost too much of a trigger. Unable to help himself, Severus stretched a hand towards the tiny shadowy square. He braced himself inward and out for the rush of magic that was sure to come.

He was entirely unprepared for the various images that came hurtling through his mind immediately afterward.

* * *

><p>"There's nothing here." Albus entered the kitchen to find Severus staring out into the hallway as if there were something wrong. He looked from his Potions Master to the small cupboard beneath the stairs that currently had the younger wizard transfixed. "In fact, there wasn't much of anything upstairs and—Severus, are you alright?"<p>

He reached for the younger wizard only to be forcefully flung back and down the hall with the sheer force of the magic that repelled him. For a moment, Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump and all that was frightened by the pure rage that burned in those obsidian eyes as Severus Snape fixed that damning glare on his fallen form.

In the split-second that it had happened, it also stopped.

Albus blinked, unable to believe what he'd just seen as Severus blinked and the menacing aura vanished. His Potions Master wrinkled his large beak of a nose and cast a look of utter, complete disdain around himself as if he'd just remembered he was standing in a muggle residence.

"I cannot say that I have found anything of importance, either," the man in black drawled. "Though perhaps they did not leave in as much of a hurry as we thought."

"Severus?" Albus found his voice.

"It seems that they decided a vacation in the middle of the night was a very good idea." Severus' smile could have melted a cauldron. It was dark and wicked and everything that a Slytherin was known for. It smoothed and faded into one of the Potions Master's trademark looks as he smoothed down his teaching robes with meticulous motions. "I would wager they were frightened off for some inconceivable reason or the other and thought that making a run in the middle of the night was a good thing." He smirked. "I am sure that they will be easy to find."

"Yes, yes," Albus found himself growing slightly impatient. He didn't particularly care about the muggles at this point, he was more worried for the sake of the young magical child that should have been in their care. He'd been casting his magic liberally about upstairs and there wasn't even the faintest trace of a signature for little Harry anywhere. All magical children left a signature wherever they resided, it grew as they did and often reached out to their caregivers—the magical parent, if the family had a muggle parent, to touch the parental magic.

There would be dozens of subtle signs, but this one, the most obvious, bothered Albus the most. He'd considered this his duty for the sake of the greater good, but a sudden, dreadful thought had occurred to him. If he'd miscalculated horribly in some way or another—and really, what _were_ the chances of that happening, anyway—then perhaps Harry had become a squib.

Voldemort's spell had rebounded enough to kill himself and spare Harry, but no matter what nonsense he spouted of Blood Wards, Albus knew it was truly only sheer luck and the truth of the prophecy that night that had spared that little life. Of course, there was the matter of the curse scar left behind, but he'd always wondered if there was anything else left inside of it that might have gnawed away on the boy's magical core.

They hadn't been able to spare much time after the Dark Lord's defeat, so he'd simply gathered up the little babe and bundled him off to his relatives until he could think of a better plan. Of course, after he'd settled down, that course of action seemed to have been the best, so Albus had never bothered to recalculate it. After all, having the child grow up with muggles would certainly help him to better appreciate the magical world and that seemed like an excellent side effect.

Not that he would ever mention that to anyone. If they were anything like the temper of a certain Minerva McGonagall and Pomona Sprout, then they would hex him bloody and be done with it. Then they'd start the torture. The duo could be impossible when it came to their students, fussing over them like parents over a single, spoiled child. Children should be properly cared for yes, he did agree, but certainly never coddled. Pomona, he could accept, after all, she was head of _Hufflepuff_ for Merlin's sake and Minerva, well, she was a mother lion who cared for her cubs.

Albus scowled. He hoped that the Dursleys had simply decided to take a vacation and took Harry along with them.

That could only lead to ruin.

"I meant about the _boy._" Albus tried to keep the anger from his voice. There were very few things that ruffled him like no other, but Severus Snape was one of those things—er—people. The man had a knack for slipping under your skin and making you want to hex him, no matter how inappropriate the time and place. Of course, the fact that he'd felt threatened by the same young wizard just moments before had absolutely nothing to do with the near irrational bout of temper that now surfaced in the wake of the sudden spike of adrenaline. Absolutely nothing at all.

"Potter's child?" Severus sneered. "It is obviously not here either."

Albus blinked. The sheer venom in that single utterance, not to mention the professor's use of 'it' settled his hackles quite comfortably. He had no worries to consider in the form of an enraged Severus, after all the man was completely selfish to his own self and devoted only to his potions. He did not care for any of the usual things like his other professors and since that night when he'd come to him bearing that hideous mark on his arm, Albus knew that he'd have a spy for life. Severus owed him far too much. It was quite a turn from his younger years where he'd hated him for favoring James Potter and his friends.

"…yes, well. Perhaps they are…out."

"Traveling?" Severus tucked his wand away and started towards the front door. "Perhaps. I sense nothing amiss here. Something else must have triggered the wards on the house. You said that was what alerted you?"

Albus quickly shifted to his feet, casting a few unwrinkling charms and a cleaning charm at his robes, lest they be soiled from touching the ground. "Yes, yes. The wards. I think something, ah, changed in them. Nothing to worry about."

"Good. I shall be busy for the foreseeable weekend." Severus huffed. "_Do not_ disturb me or need me or somehow require my presence before Monday." He tossed his head, unable to quell the action. His Veela wanted out and now was definitely _not_ the time nor the place for it. Only sheer power and will alone helped him to stay grounded as he was. "You might check with a muggle travel agency," he added, as an afterthought. "Perhaps they had reservations."

"No muggle means would disrupt a spell, Severus." Albus said, mildly. But he didn't want to think of what would. Something strong, for sure, and the only thing with that sort of strength was Voldemort. The older wizard frowned. He really did not like the way this was panning out. He'd have to make sure that he checked with his other spies in the underworld. Perhaps one of them had heard something that Severus hadn't.

"When was the last time you traveled the muggle way?" Severus shot back. He poked at a few things on the entry way table. "There are no signs of a forced entry, muggle or magical." He grimaced. "And everything is disgustingly neat."

"There is nothing wrong with cleanliness." Albus murmured, absently. "I suppose I should speak with Arabella again…" He forced a smile, before turning to face Severus. He couldn't very well say that his tracking spell had flickered and died out and most likely because something more powerful had overwritten or removed it. That would be absolute foolishness. He was mildly gratified to note that Severus wasn't paying the slightest attention to him, but rather was focused on the front door as if he would rather be back in his dungeons and busily brewing. "Left a potion running?" He inquired, politely.

Not that it mattered. A wizard was a wizard and there were stasis charms for a reason. Severus had no doubt become quite good at them, Albus was sure. He'd interrupted the sour man many times while brewing and though it often brought out the dark man's equally dark temper, Albus knew that it was nothing he couldn't handle, if he had a mind to.

It also helped to let him keep an eye on said professor. Sometimes, in moments like before, he had the strangest feeling that Severus wasn't all that he seemed. The elderly wizard shook his head to clear it. Nonsense and poppycock….he was imaging things, wasn't he? It must be the strange muggle air fresher in the house. Yes. Of course. That seems about right…blasted muggles…always causing his headaches…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As some of you may know, this fic was put on hold due to a rather nasty flame from an idiotic and insensitive reviewer who obviously had nothing better to do with their brains at the time they composed said flame. At that particular time, however, this fic was my very first and ONLY HP fic and their pointless display of immaturity and lack of tact did absolutely nothing to help my writing whatsoever. **

**It has taken me a while to even consider continuing this fic, much less starting and posting this new chapter and it is shorter than my previous ones. I apologize for the wait and I thank everyone who commented kindly and considerately, as well as those of you who encouraged me to keep writing. I almost deleted this fic. I'm glad I didn't. Your words were helpful and very much appreciated. The new updated warnings have been restated above, along with the necessary ratings and pairings, etc. Thank you kindly. **


	6. Severus Hurries Home

**Read Warnings before you proceed to understand the context and universe of this fic.**

* * *

><p><strong>Pairings: <strong>Severus Snape x Lucius Malfoy x Narcissa Malfoy and later, Draco M. x Harry P.

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own any Harry Potter anything. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just like playing with Harry in my own little world of storyville. I make no money by writing this fanfiction. All original characters are my own.

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16.

* * *

><p><strong>WARNINGS: VERY AU : <strong>Mature themes. Contains mentions and moments of slash(m/m) and femmeslash (f/f). Scenes are not explicit as per FF guidelines. There will be obvious scenes and mentions of a Dominant/Submissive dynamic. Severus is the Alpha, Lucius is a Beta and Narcissa is their Bearer. Angst. Fluff. Mentions of CP in future chapters. Creature Instincts. Possessive Veela. Other warnings will be added as I see fit.

* * *

><p><strong>PREVIOUSLY: <strong>_The Malfoys are taking care of Harry, when Albus realizes that he can no longer sense Harry at Privet Drive. He orders Snape to check on Harry and then decides to accompany him as well. After discerning that Harry is no longer at the Dursley's a worried Severus excuses himself from Dumbledore's presence and rushes home to speak with his bondmates. _

* * *

><p>Severus headed straight for his quarters the moment that he was free of the older wizard's clutches.<p>

First he would alert Narcissa of his changed travel plans—so she could tell Lucius who would likely still be at work—and then he could know if Draco had arrived home from the Zabinis. He scowled darkly as he stalked through the dungeons, his brilliant mind working several million clicks a minute. He would have to talk to them and they might just have to take things into their own hands.

Lily Potter's child missing was a grave omen indeed.

As much as he'd hated James Potter, he'd dearly loved Lily Evans. Even when that love had turned to sisterly affection and admiration after the discovery of his soulmate, Lucius, he had still held her in high-regard, muggleborn and all. Narcissa had helped to fill a womanly void he hadn't realized he'd needed in Lily's absence and subsequent rejection. He'd spared a few thoughts for her after that fateful day, trying his hardest not to dredge up the painful memories that had driven him to take the mark now branded on his inner arm.

Lucius had never forgiven him for that and he'd gone to take the mark shortly after himself. Narcissa had been exempt, being a witch, of exceptional vanity and power. For all that the dark lord was, he hadn't dared to cross a pregnant, temperamental woman. Narcissa had been both. As a result, she was absolutely furious at both of them for taking the mark, never mind if it had been for honorable reasons that had nothing to do with the madman they were now bound to.

It was on him, as were other responsibilities, as the reigning dominant among them to see about either ridding them of the violent madman and thus rendering the magical marks invalid or finding some other way to remove it from their persons. He had taken the mark in a fit of temper and emotional distress upon learning of Lily's death and in a vulnerable moment, he'd let that wretched Albus Dumbledore take things and twist it to his own advantage.

The Slytherin in him rankled at the thought of the too-Gryffindor Headmaster sticking his stupidity into things he didn't fully understand and making a mess with the whole lot of it. As far as he knew, there were certain checks and balances that should not be touched and Albus Dumbledore had dared to touch them. Severus shook his head minutely to clear it.

He would need to be clear-headed and with proper command over all of his mental faculties, before mapping out a plan of action. The first thing to do would be to find Harry. If Harry was not traceable through borderline dark tracing spells, then he would have to make contact with the Dark Veela underground. Compared to the light Veela counterparts, the Dark Veela tended to run things just beneath the eye of the law, trading under the table and using their influence in ways that would never see the light of day. They were the dark shadows of the night that kept the Veela empire running smoothly and without a hitch.

There was, after all, no light, without some semblance of darkness.

While he did not relish reestablishing contact with his own kind, it was not for lack of want, but rather, he was not prepared to weather the fierce tempers that would likely come his way for taking a mark that his kind had deeply abhorred when Voldemort had come to power. To minimize the effect that one madman could have on their kind, the Veela had simply and quietly, left the British wizards to themselves and set up new lives overseas in France and Germany where Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had discreetly welcomed them.

Severus had friends—strange as it was for him—and from that one night, he'd quit trying to hide his mistake and simply stopped communicating with them altogether. He'd moved Lucius and Narcissa, to keep them safe and knew that since he'd never introduced Lucius to the Dark Veela community—nor presented himself as Lucius's dominant to the light Veela community—they would be safe. No one would ever connect the two of them together and they would be free to project lives independent of each other.

Narcissa hadn't been happy about it, but Lucius had understood straightaway and begun to shift his affairs and things, making the very necessary changes without so much as a single protest. When Narcissa had complained, Lucius had just reminded her that she'd wanted Draco to attend Hogwarts as they all had and after some time, she'd come to accept it as well. Keeping their identities intact had also granted her the ability to be Lady Malfoy with a reputation extending even further than the Black Widow, Lady Zabini herself.

Lady Zabini was known as a man-eater. Lady Malfoy was known as a monster clad in silken robes—after all the best monsters were those in legends that were only heard in passing, the kind that no one ever lived to survive.

Troubling thoughts aside, Severus had already stopped in to check his private potion stores for the necessary ingredients for the tracing spells. Not Hogwarts, no, of course not, because he had learned early on just how vindictive Albus Dumbledore could be and he now knew better how to keep his precious ingredients safe. He had one magically protected, hidden and properly insured storehouse in one of the lesser known wizarding communities and a single elf that was willing to look after his things without using magic.

Now, when he stepped in, the elf, Rook, blinked up at him with solemn eyes. "Master Severus." He greeted. "What can I do for Master Severus?"

Severus rattled off a list of ingredients and stood back near the tiny desk in the corner to check the inventory books. Rook knew where things were and had packed them just the way he liked them, without the use of magic of any kind. There was no need to fuss about it himself. He'd simply sign off on the necessary permission slips for special delivery orders in the meantime.

Sure enough, several minutes later, Rook returned, handing over a properly packaged parcel wrapped in brown packing paper and wrapped with twine—all by hand. With a brisk nod, Severus muttered his thanks and then stepped outside of the giant warehouse to apparate home. The wards tingled as he passed through them, unharmed and caught up to the present that there was a guest among them.

Mildly irritated, he entered quietly and made his way towards their shared bedroom. A guest would mean that Lucius and Narcissa were entertaining and most likely Draco would be there as well. The wards had mentioned that he had returned and Severus wanted to see him, when he was though with a shower and being presentable for company. He had missed Draco, a son that was his by one-third and there was always much to catch up on. He hoped that he could properly balance his time between his bondmates and his child, before that blasted Dumbledore demanded his return.

The magical protections over the manor twisted faintly and Severus' head snapped up. He knew at once what it was and his mind whirled back to the initial impression he'd gained upon entering the property. Something about the guest's signature was distinctly off, but he couldn't place it because the magical feedback was something that had to be impossible. It had touches of Lily all over it and there was only one reason and a very specific reason at that, for such a thing to be true. If it was Lily's signature, then it would have to be on account of Harry.

Little missing Harry.

His teeth ground together as he recalled the tiny cramped space beneath the stairs at the Durlsey's picture-perfect house and the flood of memories that had been confined in that tiny space. There was nothing good that had come to him. It was all neglect, despair and sadness. A rotten kind of reality that Severus was all-too-familiar with. After all, his human father, Tobias Snape, had fallen for his Veela mother, but then been unable to find it in his heart to accept the half-blood son that had resulted when he wasn't anywhere near as glamorous as Eileen had been.

Those days—those childhood days—had been horrific at times and wretched at all others. Any good memories of his drunken father were few and far in between and after Eileen had sworn to 'obey' him during that muggle marriage ceremony, her Veela hadn't let her dare disobey after that. Sure, it had let her patch him up here and there after Tobias had taken a belt, or whatever was at hand that day, to him. She always made sure he had no scars, though she hadn't really been able to do much about his nose—a product of James Potter and Sirius Black.

With a sigh, Severus skirted around the drawing room, pausing to listen for voices and frowning to himself when he heard nothing. That wasn't necessarily odd, for Lucius had been known to entertain all sorts of acquaintances, often soundproofing the room out of habit—Slytherin habit—and conducting his business without a second thought. Usually though, it did mean that something important was happening and that particular detail bothered Severus as he recalled the abrupt way he'd cut off Lucius's attempt to gain his attention not so long ago.

He winced. That would definite result in a very cool welcome.

Surely he hadn't needed to be that abrupt, but Lucius's timing had been horrible and all Severus had known was that. He'd also known that Dumbledore had ways of monitoring things he couldn't control and that he was one of those things that Dumbledore couldn't predict or control. Experience had taught him to carefully safeguard any interaction with anyone he cared about, lest they become pawns. It wouldn't have been the first time that Dumbledore had attempted legilimency on him and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

He'd rather risk Lucius' temper and Narcissa's sharp tongue, if it meant keeping them safe. He knew in turn, that they would forgive some of his more obvious faults for the very same reasons.

Continuing on up the stairs, Severus frowned when he sensed three distinctly troubled auras and a fourth, tortured on. That didn't make any sense at all. He'd always asked Lucius to keep his torturing confined to the basement levels of their house and Merlin knew Narcissa would see that he kept his word. She hated having work dragged into her personal spaces of rest and relaxation.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus raised a hand to tap on the bedroom door when another powerful wave of magic lashed out at him. He flinched backwards from it, taking a moment to process the magic and the intent within it. His right to be there, ownership of the house and dominant position over his two bondmates afforded him a different sort of protective magic to cast within the manor, but this new wave had been something new.

Something almost like—Draco?

Severus scrambled for the door. He opened it to stare at a sight that he'd never expected to see in his thirty-something years. His precious Draco clinging to a small, pale form, with messy black hair and eyes the color of Lily green.

He froze.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oho! It looks like Severus is in for a bit of a shock. Heehee. I hope his chapter came out alright. I do have such fun writing him. :) **

**Apologies for the long wait between chapters, but it took me a little bit of time to find my inspiration for this fic again. I've decided on a new plot twist that should help to speed things up a bit. Thank you SO much for the continued support and encouragement. You have no idea how much it means to me. The next chapter should have some of Narcissa's POV and the reaction from the rest of the room to Severus' appearance. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D **


End file.
